


Wild Roses

by alt_olive



Series: Stained Glass [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Kabby, Modern AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24673579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alt_olive/pseuds/alt_olive
Summary: There is no perfect way to deal with change. Sometimes, you hold on tight and face it head-on. Other times you sleep your way through it. All their children have moved away, and Abby deals with the change in a way that directly affects her and Marcus's marriage. There will be romantic rooftop moments, tearful confrontations, and raw domesticity.The final installment of (what has become) the Stained Glass series and/or world.
Relationships: Abby Griffin & Marcus Kane, Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane
Series: Stained Glass [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1113888
Comments: 12
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hello! If you're tired of the Stained Glass AU I regret to inform you I have one functioning brain cell that simply won't let this world go. However, this is the last fic I plan on writing about Kabby. The events of season six, and airing of the final season, have me deep in my Kabby feels. Writing this felt like necessary closure. Naturally, there's angst. But the romance is oh so sweet.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/188840206@N05/49996971536/in/dateposted-friend/)

* * *

_San Francisco, California_

Her restlessness had kept her up all night. Making her stretch her leg muscles, flip on her stomach, and then on her back and then on her stomach again. More than once she sat up and looked down at the snoring man beside her in jealousy before flopping back down on her side. 

When her eyes finally gave in to the burning feeling of exhaustion, it felt like she had only closed them for thirty seconds at a time. She didn’t dream and she was certain she hadn’t hit REM at any point during the night. At around four that morning she finally peeled the comforter off her anxious body and made her way out of the master bedroom.

The wooden floors beneath her creaked with every amount of pressure asserted by the balls of her feet and tips of her toes. Being sneaky in this house was impossible, and everyone who had lived in or visited their home learned this quickly. However, there was no need to be ghostly quiet anymore, it was just Abby and Marcus now.

No light illuminated her way. It seemed the foggy skies had diluted the moonlight that usually streamed in through the large distorted glass window at the end of the upstairs hallway. Regardless, she made her way to the room two doors down and turned the knob with nervous fingers.

The bedroom was tidy for the first time in what Abby felt like was its existence. There were no pairs of shoes discarded across the floor or a pile of clean clothing on the desk chair. The same pile she’d asked her youngest daughter to fold weeks ago. There were no glasses filled halfway with water on the bookshelves or nightstands, and for the love of God, the bed was actually done.

To be fair, she had been the one to make the bed, but it still counted.

Abby let the deep sinking feeling in her chest only weigh her down more as she dragged her feet and sat on the edge of the bed. If she were to open the closet, she’d find no clothes. If she were to open the connecting bathroom, she’d find no toothbrush. The most personal pieces of Verena were gone and shoved into a 180 square foot dorm room across the country.

So, Abby laid down on her daughters’ empty bed and looked up at the glow-in-the-dark star-shaped stickers. She’d failed to remember they were still stuck to the ceiling. They no longer glowed.

* * *

**24 hours earlier**

“I love you,” Verena hugged both of her parents individually. They returned the embrace and told her they loved her too. In the oddly quiet lobby of the dorm complex, Abby felt moisture fill her eyes an excruciating amount. 

It hadn’t been like this with Clarke since she went to university an hour away. No. Verena’s college was a seven-hour flight from San Francisco that almost always needed a connection, and the two cities were direct dichotomies of each other. Where SF was the cool gray city, here it was _hot_ and _humid._

“Okay,” Abby let her daughter go and turned to look out one of the large windows. She rubbed her hands on her jeans, feeling the adrenaline pinching every nerve, and dabbed at the tears threatening to fall from down her cheeks. “We should get going, we’ll be late for our flight. You’re gonna do great honey,” Abby assured her daughter one last time, trying to smile through the heaviness she felt at her core. “I’m gonna go turn on the rental,” she motioned to Marcus who smiled softly at her, “it’s hot as hell out there. I love you, sweetheart.” 

Her final words to Verena hung in the air before Abby rushed out of the lobby. Unlike his wife, Marcus was able to hide his sadness everywhere but his eyes. When he turned back to his daughter, she already knew what he was going to say.

“I know,” Verena peered down at her toes, “I’m the last one, so it’s hard for her to accept it’s happening.”

Marcus pulled his daughter into his side, “So wise.” He kissed the top of her head before letting her go. Then seriously, “You call us if you need anything. If you’re in trouble you call us. If you’re stressed you call us. I don’t care what it is, if you need us you call us.”

“Okay,” she nodded once and Marcus stuck out his pinky. Verena laughed before interlocking her own with him.

“Alright, I’m sure your mom is listening to murder podcasts by now, trying to think of anything else.” They laughed. “I love you kiddo, be good, be safe, and we’ll call when we get home.”

As he walked back towards the exit door, it felt like his life slowed in motion. His throat tightened at the sight of his youngest. The literal product of his journey loving Abigail Griffin. The same child who hated cold maple syrup and wore the same checkered Vans for two years in middle school. Now, she was in another state, truly starting the journey of her independent life. Before he could stop himself from leaving, Marcus turned around fully and made his way to the parking lot. 

Abby was in the passenger seat of the SUV, large sunglasses covering what he knew were red-rimmed eyes, and she had pulled her hair into a bun at the top of her head. When Marcus got closer he heard the ominous narration of a scene and was correct in clocking the podcast as _Serial._

“Jesus Christ,” he chuckled to himself before knocking on the driver’s side window so she could unlock the doors.

She had been lost in her head because his knuckles against the glass startled her. After composing herself, she reached over and pressed the button letting him into the car. He didn’t say anything as he slid onto the leather and twisted his spine to look at the back seat, making sure Verena hadn’t left anything.

“I already checked the car,” Abby stated matter of fact, “she has everything.”

“Alright,” he exhaled deeply and leaned over to kiss her temple. At this, the ends of Abby’s lips twitched, like she wanted to smile, but couldn’t find it in her heart to do so. As her bottom lip started quivering, she faced away from him quickly. 

Marcus put the car in reverse and pulled the car out of the parking space in one smooth motion. They exited the lot, watching as other families helped their student move-in and say their final goodbyes. The drive to the airport was an hour give or take, and he was prepared to travel with cold cases in the background, or silence.

Then Abby spoke quietly, “I think I left too soon.” Marcus was at a stop sign, about to turn right onto the street in front of Verena’s dorm complex. 

“Marcus,” she said louder this time, enough to catch his attention. “I left too early.”

He reached over to take her hand, “She knows you love her,” he squeezed her fingers with his.

But that wasn’t enough. Abby reached for the door, “Stop the car.” She began unbuckling her seatbelt even as the car continued moving. 

“Please, stop the car,” her fingers shook impatiently against the door handle.

Marcus hastily pulled the car over on a fire lane and Abby jumped out. He watched as she raced down the hill and to the entrance of the building. The front doors were permanently open to help ease the moving process, and Abby ran through the balloon archway with weak legs and a pounding heart. Frantically, she searched the room for her daughter. Acknowledging that she was most likely back in her dorm. Probably not thinking twice about Abby’s departure.

“Mom?” someone called from behind her. 

Abby turned to find Verena at the bottom of the main stairs.

“What’s wrong?” her daughter asked.

In the second Verena’s concerned expression matched that of her siblings, Abby flipped the switch, “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Abby knew she couldn’t make the change that was happening even harder on her child. But she had forgotten that they all always knew her better than that. So Abby stood incredibly still when Verena approached her and threw her arms around her, squeezing tight. The tightest she’s ever hugged her mother.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Verena murmured.

“Oh honey, don’t worry about me. I’m just going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

They embraced until Abby saw Marcus from the corner of her eye, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, giving them space. Abby kissed Verena’s forehead for the last time.

* * *

Marcus woke up to an empty bed, and although sporadic, it was never unheard of for Abby to be up earlier than him. She could be dealing with last-minute preparations before the start of fall classes. Preparations she told him she’d get done on the flight home. It was wishful thinking at best.

Instead, Abby walked through the airport like a zombie. Once aboard the plane, she pulled the hoodie of her jacket over her eyes and sunk into the chair, trying to sleep. Marcus knew better than to bring up her deadlines. Even if he also knew that when she inevitably remembered she had them, she would scold him for not reminding her.

Anyways, they had arrived home around dinner time, and he suggested they order-in. To his surprise, Abby had insisted on going to one of her favorite restaurants by the Ferry Building. A restaurant that without reservation would have them waiting an hour for a table and another 45-minutes for the plate he knew she would order.

Luckily enough, there had been an availability for two that night. Marcus had never entered his information so fast for a reservation. When he found Abby drying her hair in a towel, fresh from a shower, he told her the good news and she smiled wide. Ear to ear, teeth, laugh lines, and all. 

It was the first time she’d smiled since they left Verena at university.

They enjoyed tapas and a jug of sangria. The view of the bay, and the sounds of its waters splashing against the pier, made Marcus think they were going to be fine. 

Fine alone, that is. 

With a flush that hadn’t left her cheeks since the second glass of sangria, Abby had leaned forward to kiss him for the first time that day. He thought nothing of it. She believed the most private times were when they were surrounded by others, and got a kick from making him blush.

“No one cares,” she had said one time, “people are worrying more about how _they_ are being perceived.”

“You’re telling me, if we started making out right here, in broad daylight, in this booth, no one would care?” he mused.

“Okay, don’t be gross,” she had scrunched her face. “Obviously if we started sticking our tongues down each other's throat that wouldn’t be great. But if we kiss, as normal people do, no one would give a shit,” and then she stuck a fry in her mouth and continued on like nothing.

But last night, they were bellies full, lungs stretched, and lips numb, hand in hand walking down the pier parallel to the restaurant. They made it to the very end, and leaned against the wooden ledge, looking out at the dark water and small lights of the bay bridge. When a chill picked up, he wrapped his arms around her front and pulled her back against his chest, his chin gently atop her head.

Against the wind, Abby murmured, “I don’t want to go home.”

Marcus took a moment to respond, “I know.”

At his words Abby let her tense shoulders fall and they stood in peaceful silence facing the sea.

Now, Marcus reassessed whether he was right about Abby getting work done in the wee hours of the morning. So, he slowly made his way off the bed and in search of his wife. He immediately noticed the open door at the end of the hall. As quietly as their creaky floors would allow, he made his way to affirm his assumptions.

If he had a dollar for every time his assumptions were correct … he would not be a rich man. Because the room was empty, tidy, and cold. In one motion he reached forward and gently shut the door.

Confused, he made his way downstairs. The front door was locked, and her coat was still hanging above her shoes. He passed the sitting room, no sign of her. The living room had no one. He checked his office, but it was empty. The dining room and kitchen looked untouched.

Finally, he opened the door to the backyard and found her curled up in the woven chair that hung from the ceiling. The egg-shaped furniture slowly rocked back and forth with the wind, lulling Abby to sleep. With careful steps toward her, the sound of her soft snores made themselves known.

“Your stare is so loud,” she mumbled, her eyes still closed. Abby curled up tighter, adjusting his pullover to cover her knees. Her bare feet moving against each other, attempting to warm up in the chilly morning weather.

Marcus cracked a lopsided smile and leaned down to move strands of her hair away from her face.

“Coffee?” he offered.

“Mmm, no thank you,” she told him softly, “I was gonna walk over to _Oro_ for a latte and a chocolate kougin amann.”

“Alright,” Marcus stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pajamas and waited for her to get up. _Oro_ opened two hours ago. Which meant it was likely that there was already a building line out the door and a limited amount of chocolate kougin amanns. Abby knew this though, but she made no move to get up.

Marcus stood awkwardly in front of her still form, suddenly aware of how terribly kept their backyard was. Weeds that hid as pretty flowers were growing up the fence. The wooden playscape they had purchased for Verena was faded and battered. The grill he bought on a whim four summers ago was rusted.

“Why are you hovering?” Abby peeked one eye open.

Marcus tactfully ignored her question and continued looking out at the lackluster yard, “When did we let this go to shit?”

Abby stretched then, lifting her arms in front of her, wiggling her fingers, “When our last kid turned thirteen maybe?”

“Hmph,” Marcus turned back to her as she stuck out each leg to stretch her quad and calf muscles, “well I’m gonna search our drawers for the gardeners’ number … and then I’ll google a landscape designer.”

“Oh god,” Abby chuckled to herself.

“What?” Marcus raised his eyebrow, his right hand at his chin, a sign he was already making a ridiculously thorough plan to save the backyard in his head.

“Do you know how many overpriced landscape architects are gonna pop up in this city? That new tower downtown spent nearly two billion on their rooftop terrace.”

“Well love,” Marcus lifted his hands to his hips, “ _clearly_ I am going to hire the same firm.”

“Yeah,” Abby pushed herself off the chair to stand, “Who gives a crap about our savings and daughter’s college tuition?” She wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Not me,” Marcus shook his head, trying his best to keep an emotionless expression. He held her face in his palms and they laughed, each intake of breath fresh from the morning air and the smell of dew on the grass. Abby lifted herself up on her tiptoes and gave him a chaste kiss.

Moving his arms to hug her back, Marcus asked, “Did you have trouble sleeping?”

Abby felt the concern dripping from his lips like sap from a maple tree -- sweet and stealthy. She let her eyelids flutter close and rolled her neck in a circle, trying to concoct an answer that would allow Marcus to let it go … at least for now.

“It’s too quiet in there,” she lifted a hand to motion towards their home, “I’ll get used to it,” her attention moved back to him, “I’m just, not ... yet. Okay?”

Marcus didn’t immediately answer, but after a few moments he nodded, “Okay.”

Abby pulled away, “I’m gonna go shower and head to _Oro_ to work on those lesson plans you so conveniently forgot to remind me of.” Her eyes were playful and Marcus took solace in the smirk she loved to wear when giving him a hard time.

“The alternative being donut holes chucked at my head in an airport terminal? Yeah, I stick by my decision _Dr. Kane_.”

With one last kiss and one last giggle, Abby made her way inside. Marcus was left wondering if he would ever get her to spend more than a few hours in the house.

* * *

Abby was able to find a spot in a corner of the crowded cafe, happy to work with the noise of dishware clinking and conversations. By the time she left she would smell of espresso beans and baked goods. Two pastries were already fully consumed in her stomach. A waitress walked around with a pot of coffee and Abby more than agreed to a refill.

Her glasses had slipped down her nose as she adjusted the angle of her laptop screen for the hundredth time that morning. She hated that everything, even lesson plans, had to be completed on online programs that never worked the way they were first pitched. To top it off, her favorite TA had graduated in the spring and she had yet to find a replacement. So, here she was navigating a mouse pad that she hated.

“ _Doctor Abby?_ ” a voice floated toward her.

It took a moment for Abby to register the soft call. It had been a long time since anyone referred to her by that title and name combination. If her memory served her right, only one person had ever addressed her as such. The same person who wore beat-up Chuck Taylors and refused to clip her bangs out of the way of her good eye.

Abby lifted her head to find the same all-knowing brown eyes that usually accompanied a sassy attitude -- all in an attempt to mask the fear only a young child with a tumor would have. In a moment the memories of Abby yelling at her patient's father, ignoring her boss’s advice, and getting pulled into a supply closet by one of her best friends, only to have a long-overdue breakdown, flashed like a disaster reel in her head.

The young girl Abby had known, what felt like a million years ago, was no longer a child. Instead, a young woman stood in front of her now. Her brown locks were pulled into a bun at the top of her head, strands of hair framing her face, but not covering her eyes. She had small tattoos running up her arms, layers of gold jewelry on her fingers, neck and ears, and an oversized white painter's jumpsuit on; same black Chuck Taylors.

“Reese?” Abby could barely believe what was coming out of her mouth, “Is that you?” The girl smiled wide, and Abby knew it could be no one else. 

“In the flesh,” she answered. Without wasting one more second Abby pushed herself out of her chair and wrapped both arms around Reese. An embrace that was returned with just as much force.

Before she could stop them, all the questions Abby had stored away to never be answered started floating around in her head. But what was the appropriate thing to start with, “You’re alive?” No, absolutely not. That would be a horrific and hopeless thing to say.

Slowly she pulled away from Reese and motioned to the empty seat across from hers, “Please, sit.”

Abby cleared the mess into one neat-ish stack on top of her laptop and looked at Reese with medical-grade scrutiny. However, she knew if there was a scar, it wouldn’t be visible to the naked eye.

“I almost didn’t recognize you with those glasses,” Reese teased, and Abby noticed her voice was much deeper than she remembered. Naturally.

Abby shook her head with a smile, “I almost didn’t recognize you … at all.”

Without missing a beat Reese quipped, “Hard to expect someone who’s not supposed to be here.”

“Don’t say that,” Abby reached out to hold Reese’s hands on the table, “if anyone is _supposed_ to be here, it’s you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Reese rolled her eyes, and Abby was happy that some things never changed.

There was an awkward silence that followed their initial greeting, and Reese finally sighed, “Good god, just ask me if I had surgery already! I know you want to.”

Abby shrunk into herself, “I want to so bad.”

Reese crossed her arms and leaned back, “Well I did.” 

Then Abby lunged forward with wide eyes, unable to contain herself, “When?”

“When I turned sixteen and it became my decision-”

“Did it worsen as you got older?”

“Slowly, yes. The tumor grew, I had lost full vision in my left eye, and at this point, it was an even bigger risk than when you proposed the procedure years before that. But I was tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop. So, as soon as I could, I overruled my dad and was on a flight to Houston by the end of the week.”

“Oh, Reese,” Abby covered her face, feeling a vast amount of emotion take over.

“I mean it worked. _Obviously_. I’m here.”

“I should have been there.”

Reese looked down at her hands on her lap, “I thought about finding you … more than once. When I was a child I was _so_ hurt that you left. I didn’t understand it. I was mad at everyone for a while. As I’m sure Juliet shared,” Reese rolled her hands in a forward motion.

“She didn’t,” Abby’s lips twitched into a grim smirk, “there was a lot going on with me at the time. I wasn’t in a good place.”

“And I was?”

“I tried,” Abby croaked, “I put _everything I had_ into your case. I was devastated when they rejected my proposal,” she ticked at the cuticles of her fingers, her bottom lip between her teeth and her eyes beginning to squint to keep the tears at bay.

“You presented your proposal and then _left_ ,” Reese lifted her eyes like daggers at Abby, “for _half a year_.”

Abby had to admit, she did not expect Reese to have such a vivid memory of her departure. And then it hit her like a freight train. As much as a difficult time Abby went through, it didn’t justify that she had played a role in disappearing from Reeses’ life without a word. The weight of _that_ suddenly landed on her shoulders and Abby felt a lump in the back of her throat and guilt in the pit of her stomach.

Reese continued strongly, “Only to show up for _one_ day and get yourself fired by the end of it.”

“Now, that’s not fair,” Abby sternly fought back, even though it was under her breath.

“You were like a mother to me, and then you left, and I never heard anything from you again.”

“Reese, I am so sorry,” Abby reached out, and at first Reese hesitated, then she gave in and let Abby hold her shaking fingers in her still ones.

“Why didn’t you?”

Abby took a moment to think of an answer. An _honest_ answer. “I think on some subconscious level, I was afraid of what I would find. I had already lost the proposal, my job … and Marcus. Clarke was across the world, and it took _a lot_ of work for Marcus and I to properly reconcile. Only to have the biggest devastation of his life to occur. I couldn’t handle any more bad news. But let me tell you something, I never forgot about you, Reese. I could never forget about you.”

Reese nodded, hearing Abby out and accepting that after all these years she only knew her own side of the story. And now Abby’s side … well, Abby’s side sounded like a fucking mess.

“But it’s not an excuse,” Abby squeezed her hands warmly, “I shouldn’t have gone radio silent. You needed someone.”

“I didn’t need _someone_ ,” Reese gently clarified, “I needed _you_.”

“ _I’m sorry_.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to sit here and make you feel bad for something that happened a hundred years ago. And … it came full circle in the end, didn’t it? At least as best it could I guess,” Reese shrugged and leaned back in her chair.

Abby didn’t comprehend, “What do you mean?”

“Well, your husband paid for all my medical bills -- surgery, recovery, everything the insurance wouldn’t cover.”

“ _What?!_ ” Abby could not conceal the shock on her face. Marcus had never told her this. Abby started retracing the timeline of where they would be when Reese would have had her surgery.

“You did end up with the beard right?”

Abby opened her mouth and closed it, processing everything at a slower rate then she could’ve imagined. So Reese continued, “Well I assume the beards name is the Marcus you’re talking about. _Marcus Kane_ , because that was the name on the check I got.”

They sat in silence as Abby tried to figure out why Marcus wouldn’t have told her. It didn’t make sense. But she wasn’t about to figure it all out in the small time she had with Reese. In the end it was a good and thoughtful thing for him to do. It spoke of the man she loved, even when she wasn’t looking.

“We’re married,” Abby smiled softly.

“No way!” Reese squealed with delight, her knees even kicked up a little, “Well you’re welcome! Lest you forget, I am the one who secured the bag for you with those baby flowers.”

Abby shook her head side to side with exasperation. But she was unable to conceal the feeling of incredulous joy that spread from Reese more regularly.

“We had one of those too.”

“Holy shit!”

Heads turned to them, and Reese waved them off, too busy with the details of Abby’s life.

“I know,” Abby hid her now blushing face, “a lot happened.”

“A lot of _good_ at least.”

“Mmm,” Abby’s eyes downcast, “you know life. Ebbs and flows,” she shrugged.

Reese groaned, throwing her head back, “I liked you so much better when you were forced to be positive.” Reese straightened up, leaned on the table with her elbows, “You ended up marrying the beard, you had a child, you live in the most goddamn expensive city in the country-”

Abby lifted a finger, “No, that’s where Clarke lives.”

“You live in the _second_ most expensive city in the country. I mean my best friend is paying a stupid amount of rent. What hospital do you work at here anyway?”

“Not a hospital, a university; and I’m a director and professor now.”

“Ah, of course, you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. You can’t be a badass forever, I get it.”

“I am still _badass_ , I’m just not a doctor-“

“Chief of Surgery,” Reese corrected.

“Alright, do you know how much pressure it is to run a health and counseling center and teach three times a week? I have to make sure my staff are kind and knowledgeable with vulnerable students, shy students,” Abby starts ticking off the tips of her fingers now, “uninformed students, scared students all while dealing with academic-“

“There she is!” Reese pointed at her with a grin, “Thought I’d lost you under those Clark Kent lenses, Patagonia pullover, and Birdies flats.”

At _that,_ Abby’s jaw dropped and Reese smiled even wider, “Okay I’m done! I promise,” she giggled, “I’m done!”

Abby shook her head side to side, not the slightest bit mad at Reese for poking fun at her. When the energy calmed down between the two of them, Reese looked at her earnestly, “So why the melancholic life talk earlier?”

Abby’s shoulders lifted high and then as she exhaled they lowered back to normal. Reese watched as Abby’s lips pouted to the side before she answered, “Change is a process, not an event. I know that. But right now,” Abby paused. She looked irritated by her own words and ran both hands from the crown of her head down to her neck and breathed in deeply before continuing, “Right now, all my kids are … _gone_.” Abby shrugged nonchalantly as if her jaw wasn’t clenched.

Reese nodded slowly, “You know, it’s a good thing we live in the twenty-first century and you can call, and text, and facetime them.”

“It’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not,” Reese agreed with her, “but it helps. Don’t go crazy though, I’m not endorsing that.”

“ _Haha,_ I’m not! Marcus on the other hand … he sends those things all the time, what are they called? Memes!”

Reese can’t hold back the cackle, “Oh my god! That’s hilarious, my dad just sends me motivational quotes. It’s like dad chill, I get you’re not into my job but saying ‘You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take’ is definitely not relevant.”

“What’s your job?” Abby asked with genuine curiosity.

“I’m an assistant sound technician. It’s why I’m in town actually, the band I’m on tour with had a show last night.”

“That’s incredible Reese.”

“My ears don’t suck, so you know, another silver lining!”

Abby gave Reese an incredulous glare.

“What?! I love self-deprecating humor, you know this.” For the first time that morning, Reese pulled her phone from her pocket, “Ah crap, I have to go or I will literally have to find my way to LA.”

“Okay,” Abby stood up to meet Reese for one last hug. The two women clung to each other tight, “If you ever find yourself here again, you’re more than welcome to stay at our house.”

“Doctor Abby, I could be conwoman,” Reese laughed, “but thank you.”

“Of course,” Abby pulled back and held Reese’s shoulders between her hands, clutching tightly, “you were always my favorite.”

“Duh!” Reese rolled her eyes with a smile. Without one look back, because she knew if she did she would be tempted to stay for lunch and then dinner, Reese spun on her heel and made her way outside. Abby was left feeling like yet another person she loved was gone.

* * *

* * *

Song for this chapter: [Wild Roses by Of Monsters and Men](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lyjgw3gczgM).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reese lives! I refuse to erase the theme of hope from Kabby's narrative.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mature content and minor mental health warning.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/188840206@N05/49996490908/in/dateposted-friend/)

When Abby returned home, Marcus had just gotten off the phone with their gardener. He heard the front door shut, and her footsteps pattering through each room. He waited patiently until she finally checked his study. The door was wide open when she found him. 

Usually, Abby walked in and wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind, leaning down to kiss his temple before walking right back out and going about her day. But this time, Abby stopped at the doorway and leaned against the frame. Marcus froze when she crossed her arms, her lips in a straight line, and eyes cold. He knew he had done something wrong, he just didn’t know what it was yet.

“How was-” he started, before Abby immediately cut him short. 

“I’m curious, were you ever going to tell me that you paid for Reese’s surgery?”

“Well fuck,” Marcus grunted under his breath, unable to stop the words before they slipped from his mouth. Abby widened her eyes at his initial reaction. In her favorite black sweatshirt of his, Marcus swallowed and ran a hand through the top of his head, “Abby-”

“I thought we were past keeping the truth from each other,” she told him with a hard tone. Marcus observed her statue-like state, something she reserved for times she felt completely caught off guard. Abby narrowed her eyes in on him as he approached her. For the first time in a long time, she lifted her palms up to stop his advances. She didn’t want comfort, she wanted answers. Most of the time, answers from Marcus were concrete. They were something she could grasp onto to make sense of everything she couldn’t. Especially the things happening inside her own self.

Marcus sighed, his head falling and his hands making their way to his hips, “And when would have been a good time to tell you, Abby?” 

The tight feeling in Abby’s throat made itself known when Marcus lifted his head to observe her silently. They hadn’t been like _this_ in some time. Yes, they argued over things like taking out the trash and whether or not they needed a vehicle in the bay area. But, in the past few days, Abby felt like Marcus was taking note of every notion and emotion she made. Marcus was already an observant person, and as a husband even more so. So, the fact that Abby knew at this moment he was thinking critically about the best way to handle the situation, to handle _her_ , really pissed her off.

“Don’t act dumb Marcus, you and I both know your consulting rate is too high for that.”

The sharpness of her voice made Marcus take an involuntary step back. He remembered how much he did not like arguing with Abby. The thing they don’t tell you about loving someone for as long as Marcus had loved Abby, is that you grow an arsenal of tactics to undermine the other. A deathly stealth arsenal. Accessible to you at any time you decide to be a shitty partner. Even in the greatest times of turbulence, Marcus never wanted to lift the lid to this deeply twisted trunk of fighting words.

“Okay,” Marcus exhaled, his eyes never leaving hers. “Please, sit down?” he motioned to the couch in front of his desk.

“I’m fine,” Abby shook her head.

Marcus nodded, not pressuring her any further. Instead, he took a seat on the couch’s edge, “Jackson called when Reese decided to fly out to Houston for the procedure.”

“Called me? Was I not around my phone?”

“No,” Marcus whispered, looking down at his interlocked hands, “He called me.”

Abby’s mouth shaped into a silent, ‘Oh’. Marcus continued, “Nena was six years old, Abby. Then, Clarke got that job offer in New York and Octavia decided not to go back to university. You were dealing with a lot.”

Abby let her right arm fall to point her index finger roughly at her chest, “ _I_ get to decide when I’m vulnerable, okay? You do not get to assume that I can’t handle information.”

“I understand that-”

“Information like life-saving surgery. In what world would I not want to know that Marcus?”

The room went silent for long seconds in time. Marcus immediately had an answer to her question, but he knew it wasn’t one she would like.

Abby read his silence like an open book, “I’m telling you that I can handle the answer Marcus. So tell me.”

Marcus licked his lips before speaking softly, “Because the surgeon wasn’t you.”

Abby closed her mouth, narrowing her eyes in on him, “I am not the one with an ego problem.”

Marcus stood up, stepping closer to her, “This isn’t about ego Abby, you know that. This is about the literal embodiment of saving Jake, that you put on a nine-year-old girl. How was I going to tell you that _that_ manifestation wasn’t dependent on your hands?”

“Because she lived!” Abby shouted, her voice echoing through the study and stunning Marcus “And she told me herself today.”

Abby swiftly made her way out of the room, before Marcus could process a coherent response other than his jaw landing on the floor in utter shock. He immediately followed her, only a few steps behind. Abby raced up the stairway, holding onto the railing for support.

“You saw Reese today?” Marcus yelled after Abby, kicking his knees up as fast as they would go. At the top of the stairs he caught Abby rounding the corner into their bedroom.

“Abby, please,” Marcus begged, “stop running.”

“I’m not running,” Abby gritted out, even though every bone in her body told her otherwise.

“Well, there are a lot of things we’re denying today,” Marcus answered sharply.

That’s when Abby realized she did not miss arguing with Marcus. But in the wake of everything she was feeling, maybe seeking numbness meant faking strength. Abby knew in the moments she felt too much, all she craved was to feel nothing. She wanted the clarity her brain usually provided to give her a fucking moment to be human. Did that make her a bad person? For wanting a second to simply feel what was happening to her instead of inside her?

Suddenly, Abby spun on her toes to face him then. In three long steps, she was mere inches from his face. Marcus looked down at her and could make out the small dents on each side of her nose from having her glasses on too long, and the tired circles under her eyes from a restless night. He lifted his hands to cup her face, and Abby’s eyelids shut as her cheeks fell warm against his palms. In the quiet, she raised her own hands to hover over his and leaned into his chest.

Minutes passed quietly before Abby mumbled, “She’s good.” Marcus listened and Abby continued, “She’s happy. God, she must be like twenty-five,” she let his hands gently run up and down her sides.

“The same personality?” he asked.

“Completely,” Abby smiled, “same Chuck Taylors too.”

“Really?” Marcus asked, surprised.

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad she’s doing well.”

“Me too,” Abby sighed. 

Abby let her hands roam up his chest, her nose brushing against the tendons of his neck, “I’m angry you didn’t tell me. But I also love that you helped her in a way you knew you could.” His hands stilled at her waist, and Abby looked up at him from under her eyelashes. She lifted herself on the tips of her toes and brushed her lips against his. Marcus was unexpectant of her advances, but it didn’t halt him enough to stop kissing her back.

“I owed her for the baby delivery flowers,” he murmured against her lips.

“Some memories just stick with us, huh?” Abby told him in between each kiss.

“Mhm,” Marcus let his fingers knot themselves in her hair, as she moved down the side of his chin, beginning to leave pecks on his throat. They pulled each other closer. Abby grabbed his shoulders, tugging him down to her, and Marcus let his knees bend, allowing him to grip right under her bottom, lifting her left leg up to circle around him.

“I have vivid memories of that office,” Abby told him throatily. Marcus felt the small sting of her front teeth as she tugged his bottom lip in-between hers. When it rolled back into place, already a little plump, Abby finished her thought, “Particularly that desk.” 

Marcus turned hot when she swiftly unbuttoned and lowered the zipper of his jeans. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the switch they had just encountered. It wouldn’t be the first time an argument turned into a makeup session. But this felt different because the context of the argument was much more serious than things like … forgetting to pick up something from the grocery store.

“Hurry,” Abby whispered, reaching for her own jeans.

They tugged their clothes off one piece at a time. It was far from graceful. There was no matching underwear or mood lighting. In the daylight, barely dimmed by their sheer curtains, Marcus and Abby stumbled on their feet, and the wooden floorboards loudly creaked, until they landed on the bed.

Marcus was used to rushing moments like these because one takes what one can get with a kid in the house and the other three that stay for long periods of time when they could. The last thing he and Abby wanted was to scar them and have awkward interactions forever. 

So, he was used to naptime sex, dance practice sex, over at a friend’s sex, etcetera.

But, it occurred to Marcus, as he made his way up Abby’s body, that they were no longer in a rush. There was no need to _hurry_ , they were on _their_ time now. What he didn’t know was that the same thought had occurred to Abby — and it didn’t have the same effect on her.

Marcus’s lips reached Abby’s neck, softly kissing her, and she could feel his movements slow down. Each touch had more weight than the last. His intentions were thoughtful, and all Abby could think about was that she wasn’t in a place yet to divulge in their solitude. 

Underneath him, she squirmed. Unable to clear her head enough to enjoy the moment, to enjoy Marcus and God she really wanted to. Ultimately, she wanted to stop her inner dialogue. In a quick movement, she flipped onto her stomach, her hair falling over her right shoulder, and looked back at him with an expression she reserved for ravenous moments. Unbeknownst to Marcus, Abby expertly hid the slight offness she felt inside. The dark charcoal that absorbed his irises and dilated his pupils told Abby she hand unlocked what she wanted from him. Marcus leaned down to kiss her shoulder blades, readying himself, a hiss escaping his lips when he felt her cold hand on his lower back urging him. At the moment they connected, Marcus opened his eyes to find that at this angle he could see Abby’s expression on the mirror across the room.

* * *

Marcus shut the door to their bathroom with heaving breaths. The brisk exercise he had just asserted on his body showed in the beads of sweat on his forehead and his flushed cheeks. He could still feel where the pads of Abby’s fingers pushed against his upper abdomen. With haste, he strode to the shower and pulled open the glass door and turned on the water. Marcus ripped off his pullover, tugged down his jeans, and tossed them into a corner to deal with later. All he wanted was to stop replaying her face in his head. It all came in flashes as he stepped into the scalding hot water -- the way she clenched her eyes in bed as she pierced the skin from her lips so hard it bled, the guilt as she frantically searched for clothes, the anger and frustration as she cried for him to leave her alone in the park. He didn’t know when she would get home, or if she would even come home at all. Marcus couldn’t tell the water falling down on him from the hot tears steadily streaming down his cheeks.

* * *

When Abby had gotten home, enough hours had passed for the sun to begin setting through their windows. Marcus had stood in the kitchen, his laptop open, but no work finished. He didn’t expect her to go looking for him, he was simply relieved that she was home safe.

Abby had done the same as Marcus, piling her dirty clothes on top of his, and stepping into the shower — hoping the warm water would relax her tense body. She had no intention of referencing anything that had happened earlier that day to him ever again. Marcus could decide for himself if he wanted to forget it all as well. 

When she slipped into bed later that night, her phone buzzed next to her.

**Octavia**

_Are you awake?_

Abby let her thumbs hover over the key stokes. Isn’t this what she wanted? Wasn’t this the medicine to help her conquer the change? All she felt was emotional exhaustion, and that was definitely something Octavia would hone in on. Abby weighed her decision critically before typing back.

_Yes, what’s going on?_

_Ok, calling you._

Then her phone flashed with a picture of Octavia at a horse ranch a few miles north. She had about a hundred more photos from this weekend in her camera roll.

“Hello,” Abby answered, making herself comfortable as she sat up against her headboard.

“She lives! I’ve been texting you for the past hour, what gives?” Octavia sighed at the end of the other line.

Abby’s nose scrunched in confusion, “You have?” She pulled back her phone and navigated to her messages to find that Octavia had in fact sent her a few texts.

With a groan, Abby responded, “Sorry, today’s been … busy. I didn’t notice.”

Octavia took a moment to clock Abby’s tone, “It’s cool, I just wanted that recipe for your banana bread. I was at the store earlier, but I can go back tomorrow.”

Abby laughed, “I’ll send you the blog post. It’s not like a _family_ recipe babe.”

“Wow, my childhood was built on lies,” Octavia clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

“Honey, you were fifteen when we met.”

“Wow, my _youth_ was built on lies,” Octavia corrected herself very boldly to Abby, hoping to earn a small chuckle from her. Luckily, she was successful. When Abby’s gentle laughter subsided, and they were left in that awkward silence, Octavia decided a more direct approach was necessary, “So, how are you and dad doing? I saw that V is all set up in her dorm.”

Abby immediately perked up, “Oh, did she send you a picture?”

“No, she did a tour on her Instagram stories.”

“I didn’t see anything?”

Without thought, Octavia said, “Oh, it was probably on her finsta.”

“Her what?”

Octavia went silent, realizing she’d released information her younger sister had probably wanted to keep a secret. 

“O,” Abby pressed on, almost as a warning.

“A finsta is like a private Instagram,” Octavia explained under her breath, “but don’t tell her I told you about it!”

“Excuse me, private Instagram? She should only have one Instagram, the one Marcus and I can see. What does she need to post on her private account? How long have-”

“Whoa, chill! It’s totally fine, she never posts anything concerning, okay? It’s just stuff to her closest friends.”

“Well, I am one of her closest friends,” Abby argued.

“Jesus, Mom,” Octavia palmed her forehead, her eyes closing in exasperation, “you really don’t need to worry about it. Her finsta is like a mix of TikTok videos and reviews of shit she’s watching on Netflix and Hulu. It’s seriously not a big deal.”

“What the _hell_ is a _TikTok_?”

Octavia burst out laughing, “Dad can explain, he did a video with V, just ask him to show you.”

“What?!”

“I’m sending you a link. You do remember dad consults on digital media right? It’s _literally_ his job to keep up with all of this stuff. Plus, it was actually really cute. Don’t look at the comments though-”

Abby felt a small buzz, alerting her that Octavia’s link had gone through. She pulled her phone from her ear, opened the message, and then clicked the link. The next thing she saw was Verena doing a very minimal dance, and then Marcus copied her, and then they did it side by side. Abby couldn’t help but grin at how much fun it looked like they were having. It was ridiculous of them, but the exact amount of goofy they both loved to be.

Octavia waited on Abby as she watched the video on a loop a couple of times. Then, Abby exited out of her internet browser and lifted the phone back up to her ear, “I don’t understand it, but it’s cute.”

“See,” Octavia elongated the vowel, “I told you, you have nothing to worry about.”

Abby rolled her eyes, but mid-gesture something caught her attention. When she regained focus, the dark figure at the doorway of their room slowly turned into Marcus. His expression was hard for Abby to read.

“Hey, I’ll call you back tomorrow,” Abby told Octavia quietly, “you’re dad just walked into the room.”

“Gross,” Octavia gagged, coming to a conclusion _far_ from the truth, “but okay, I love you.”

“I love you too, goodnight,” Abby smiled before ending the call.

The space between Marcus and her felt dense, like a clear jelly that paralyzed her on the bed and his feet on the floor.

“It was Octavia,” Abby answered his unasked question, “she was just showing me that TikTok video you did with Nena.” Her fingers gripped her phone so tightly she could feel them begin to numb.

A deep rose flush ran up Marcus’ neck, he cleared his throat roughly, “It made Nena happy.” His answer was short, Abby took the hint that he didn’t want to elaborate the fun he obviously had with his daughter. She couldn’t blame him for not being in a jolly enough mood to share. But then he murmured, “You didn’t read the comments right?”

“Octavia said that too, why shouldn’t I?”

Marcus rubbed the back of his head bashfully, “It’s just … it’s dumb.” 

Abby had enough of the blatant discretion and opened the link on her phone again and clicked the comments button. 

_No offense but I think I have a crush on your dad_

_Ok but like is that your DAD_

_Nobody is gonna say anything about the dad??_

Abby couldn’t scroll further, silent laughter shaking her shoulders as she clicked off her phone. “You’re more confident than that Marcus. Don’t forget I knew you when your ego was the size of this room.”

“ _Ha ha_ ,” Marcus said sarcastically, emphasizing every ‘a’ as he crossed his arms. “I’m sure if you were in a video with Nena-”

Abby raised her palm up, “No, no,” she chuckled, “I’m okay being hot offline.” It was a joke, plain as day, Abby would never seriously call herself _hot_ , even though she was and even though Marcus thought she was as beautiful as ever. So, they laughed together, until their abs hurt. As though they weren’t in a terrible place.

When their breaths calmed, the tension arrived like another wave. It was by far one of the toughest things about marriage. How easily one could laugh and fall into comfort with their significant other, even when a discussion was yet to be had about the fight earlier. A choice was to be made; confront the situation before bed or not bring it up.

“Coming to bed?” Abby scooted further to her side to make room for him.

Marcus’ shoulders slumped ever so slightly, “Actually, I thought I would sleep in the guest room tonight,” he let his sentence fade off his lips. An opening to the discussion that needed to be had before they slept in the same bed together. The same bed that was still stained with red droplets towards the top left corner. 

_Make your choice, Abby_.

“I mean if that’s what you want,” Abby murmured.

“It’s obviously not,” Marcus replied coolly.

“Then stay.”

But that mere statement wasn’t enough. It didn’t explain everything he couldn’t figure out on his own. It didn’t explain what had happened between them.

“Yeah, no, we’re not doing this, we’re not going to act like we’re okay,” he said with a grim look and walked out of the room, leaving Abby to listen as he walked down the hall and closed the guest bedroom door with a low thump. Abby would be lying if she said she didn't immediately think about how long she could go without having to open her mind up to Marcus.

* * *

**Earlier that day**

It was not the first time Abby used this method to avoid the thoughts that didn’t fade. They grew in sound and size every hour and day. Realistically, Abby knew she could talk to Marcus about anything, no matter how ugly or beautiful. But, Abby refused to give herself the necessary time to make sense of each thought that appeared like a star in the sky and then disappeared only to be replaced by an even brighter one. 

She didn’t want to look up, even though she knew that was the path to getting through it. She wanted a break, a pause, a halt of time. And when Marcus rocked against her, those thoughts faded further and further into herself, as she gave into every sense of physicality he could provide. 

His chest felt warm on her back. His hand gripped her hand, stretched out above her head, helping him balance and leverage his strength. His other hand held tightly onto her hip, his thumb crushed between their bodies. 

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Abby wasn’t thinking about anything except their sounds and breaths. She craved more and told him so. Marcus gladly gave her what she wanted. Euphoric, he needed to confirm Abby was in the same state, and that’s when he searched for her expression in the mirror across the room. Except, Abby’s eyes were clenched shut and her bottom lip was painfully clamped between her teeth. 

Marcus knew it was unlike Abby to hold her eyes shut tightly for so long. He began to doubt himself, and his rough demeanor. Albeit, a roughness she pressed him to take. Then, he saw it happen in slow motion. Her front tooth pierced her lip so fiercely that bright red droplets began to make a small pool by her cheek on the bedsheets.

“Hey,” he slowed his motions, leaning down to brush some hair away from her face, “are you okay?” 

Abby didn’t open her eyes. It was like she couldn’t hear him. Like she was off in some faraway place.

“Abby, you’re bleeding,” Marcus said in a harder tone, worry laced in his voice. Her eyes opened at this and slowly she tapped the broken skin on her lips with the pads of her fingers, a thin smear of blood coating them, “Marcus I’m fine.”

Something in the tone of her voice made Marcus freeze above her. Abby’s hand left her lip and traveled to his lower back, “No please, don’t stop,” and in a softer voice, “it was working.”

Marcus suddenly felt _very_ off, “What was working?” In a swift movement, he pulled out and sat next to her lying form with a concerned expression. Abby hated the immediate feeling of being empty. 

“What’s wrong?” Marcus asked her.

Abby faced away from him unmoving, suddenly aware of the weight of her thoughts and emotions. She pushed herself up, wiping at her lip and hating how she relished in the sting it provided, “Nothing is wrong.”

“Love,” Marcus pleaded lowly, “don’t lie to me, please.”

Quickly she threw her legs over the edge of the bed, got up and began searching for clothes. _What had she said? What had she done?_

“I just need air,” Abby murmured, clumsily pulling on her jeans. 

Marcus followed her lead, frantically searching for his own pants, “I’ll come with you.”

She didn’t respond, and instead, it felt like a race of who could put on their clothes faster. Abby was winning by a large margin. As Marcus searched for his shirt, she jogged downstairs for her shoes. 

Marcus could feel the anxiety rolling through each nerve in his body. He finally found the sweatshirt he had been wearing and chased Abby. By the time his foot hit the bottom floor, she had already slipped on her shoes. Marcus pulled his sweatshirt on and shoved on the sandals by the coat rack. Abby swung the front door open and raced outside. He caught her just before she turned the corner of the street they lived on.

“Abby,” he tugged on her arm, “talk to me.”

“I’m not ready,” she pleaded with him.

“Well, you’re still bleeding. Come back inside and get cleaned up.”

She dried the blood with the sleeve of her pullover, “It’s fine.”

“We look crazy,” Marcus cried under his breath.

“I promise people in this city have seen worse,” she slipped her arm from his and kept walking. Marcus followed her for two blocks and up the hill to a small private park.

“Will you just tell me what the hell happened in there? I mean for fucks sake if you want to get out of your head, all you need to do is tell me. Don’t just hide that from me and make me feel like … like some monster.”

“Marcus …”

“The last thing I ever want is for you to not be present with me, especially like _that_. Do you know how much that hurt?”

“Oh get off your high horse Marcus, you were king of not being present.”

“Yeah, before _you_ . Because _I love you_ . Because _you matter to me_ and fuck if I-”

“You know _I love you_ , that’s not it!”

“Then what is it?! Explain it to me!”

“Just leave it alone,” Abby started to cry, and a piece of Marcus broke.

“I can’t,” his face was frozen like stone and his voice solemn, “I won’t.”

Abby pushed her fingers into his chest, “Marcus, you are not my keeper, so listen to me when I say walk the hell away and leave it alone, please.”

They stood face to face, in the midst of a beautiful day outside, feeling weak. Marcus waited with red-rimmed eyes for Abby to change her mind. But then she mouthed, “please,” one more time and Marcus lifted his chin, swallowed the pain, and turned away.

* * *

They didn’t talk about the series of events that happened from the moment Abby had started bleeding to the moment Marcus decided to sleep in the guest bedroom. Days passed with minimal conversation. Abby went back to work and missed the nights when she could count on his warm body to comfort her after long days. Marcus had all but made a home out of the guest bedroom.

On nights like tonight, Marcus had picked up dim sum from his favorite restaurant in Chinatown, before heading home. He laid the takeout on the kitchen island and tossed his coat jacket onto an unaccompanied kitchen chair. A ding on his phone alerted him of a new email. He tugged off the tie around his neck, opened up a carton of dumplings, and stuck one in his mouth before tapping on his screen to read the subject line.

_Your upcoming stay at Fairmont San Francisco_

Marcus practically choked on his food. Coughing loudly, he searched for a glass to fill with water. Abby walked in on this, and pulled one out from the dishwasher, handing it to him quickly.

“Are you okay?” she asked, watching him chug down the liquid. 

Marcus nodded, placing the glass down on the marble, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

Abby observed him a little longer than he would have liked, before moving to sit on a barstool at the opposite side of the island. She pulled some spring rolls from the takeout bag without another word. They ate in silence, switching plates every so often.

Marcus would look up at her, when she was looking down, and vice versa. 

Finally, he cleared his throat, “It’s the last Friday of August this weekend.”

He took note of the way she stopped midchew, knowing exactly what he meant.

“That came up soon,” she murmured with a small swallow.

“I got an email reminding me.”

“Oh.”

“I can cancel the reservation?”

“It’s probably too late to be fully refunded.”

“Well,” Marcus leaned his head to the left and the right, as if weighing choices, “technically we’re still ahead of the three-day window. We have until midnight to decide for sure.”

Abby set down her fork, “I say we go.”

A little bewildered he followed up, “You do?”

“We do it every year, Marcus.”

“I know.”

“Do you not want to?”

“No, I mean yes, I mean,” he shut his eyes embarrassed, “I’ll confirm our reservation.”

“Sounds good,” Abby whispered before standing up and walking out of the kitchen.

As soon as he heard the door to the master bedroom close he picked up his phone and searched for the Fairmont’s front desk number. A receptionist greeted him and Marcus replied, “Hi, I have an upcoming reservation under Marcus Kane.”

“Okay, do you know your confirmation number?”

“I do,” Marcus recited the number from the email he received.

“Here you are … Welcome back, Mr. Kane! It looks like we have you down for two nights, king bed, suite in the tower … are we celebrating an anniversary?”

“Yes. So here’s the thing. Usually, there’s rose petals, towel swans, and stuff, that um … we just don’t really need this year.”

“Okay … so no roses or towel swans … are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, let me just type those notes here. What about the chocolate and champagne?”

Marcus paused, thinking, “Those can stay. Actually, can we add another bottle?”

“Of course.”

“Great, thank you.”

“Alright, changes have been made. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No that’s it, I appreciate it.”

“No problem, we look forward to welcoming you and your wife soon.”

“Thank you,” Marcus said before hanging up, a large breath filling his lungs and exhaling dramatically. 

To be clear, it wasn’t actually their anniversary -- they just always told the hotel it was. No, the last Friday of August had been an idea Abby had years ago. It was used as a mini-vacation, to focus on each other, away from their lives as parents. But they were still close enough to home in case anything happened to their children. It’d be an understatement to say that both Abby and Marcus were very curious and equally wary, to find out how this year would go.

* * *

* * *

Songs for this chapter: [Cherry Wine by Hozier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTGwyWzMpfU), [Souvenir by boygenius](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RPGcCvUf-mQ), and [Numb by Hayden James](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9KFWhRDHb4w).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to you, those are real TikTok comments I have seen with my very eyes. The next chapter includes two days in a shmancy hotel and venturing off into the city. But neither of them have forgotten the conversation that needs to be had.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're here, thank you for sticking through the last chapter!  
> Also, mature content below.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/188840206@N05/50045591051/in/dateposted-friend/)

When Abby opened the door to their bedroom that morning, she was not expecting someone to be sitting up against the wall, sleeping. Specifically, she was not expecting Marcus to be by outside her closed door, waiting like a Labrador. So when her foot rammed against his thigh, Abby jumped in the air terrified, and Marcus’ eyes shot open.

“Oh my god!” Abby yelped, her hands flying up to cover her chest.

“Ow,” Marcus groaned in a late reaction, his own hand roaming over the spot Abby’s toes had just kicked him.

“Why are you sitting out here?” Abby tried to regain her breath. She looked down at him, noticing the throw blanket he carelessly left at his feet, and an empty glass by his side. Marcus rubbed his eyes, still not fully awake.

“I got thirsty.”

Abby couldn’t help but smirk, “Hey, at least you’re direct.”

Marcus raised his chin and gave her a look that said, _really?_ Abby chuckled and bent down to sit by him pretzel style. They were separated by the small strip of lamination between the hallway and their bedroom flooring.

“Thirsty for actual water, Abby,” Marcus exhaled, running a hand through the tangled waves on his head, “but when I came back upstairs … I got tired of being far from you.”

Abby looked down at her hands. Her fingers twitched, craving to reach out and touch him. Her body ached to lay beside him. Her head on his lap and his fingers threaded through her hair, softly massaging all her tension away.

“Your back must hate you,” Abby commented softly.

“I haven’t moved enough to notice,” Marcus replied.

“C’mon,” Abby stood up on her feet, lending a hand down to Marcus, “the bed will realign it.”

Marcus looked at her hand, hesitating before he reached out and let her pull him up. A loud hiss escaped his lips and his unoccupied hand flew to the tail of his spine. Abby helped him lay down, what felt like, one vertebrate at a time. Marcus moaned in relief, “I missed this bed so much.” He sounded like a drunk, “I’m so happy we spent money on this bed. I can’t tell you how much I love it. I need to leave a review.”

Abby’s lips turned up at their ends, “I’ll go get you an ibuprofen. Be right back.”

Marcus nodded, sinking further into the duvet. On her way downstairs, Abby picked up the empty glass he’d left in the hallway. When she returned, Marcus hadn’t moved a muscle. He laid like a mummy, his hands linked atop his chest, barely moving with each breath he took.

“Here,” Abby whispered, sticking out the two small pills and a glass of refilled water. He lifted his body enough to stick the pills on his tongue and wash them down. As soon as he swallowed, Marcus flopped back with a huff on the mattress. Abby made her way around the bed and slid onto her side. They laid parallel to each other, both looking up at the ceiling.

Abby was acute to the sound of her breath and the way her lungs expanded and contracted. Without looking at him, she let her left hand fall into the empty space between them. Her eyes closed with a shiver when she felt his right hand reach out to capture her own. They stayed like that for a while, until Abby turned on her side to look at him.

“I’m tired of being far from you too.”

She watched as his breath hitched, the nerves in his throat twitching just a bit, and then his jaw tensed. Abby knew Marcus wanted nothing more than to pull her against him, just as she wanted nothing more than to hold him in her arms. However, she was unsure of what she wanted to accomplish in the moment. If Marcus would even let her attempt it.

But then he moved onto his side and faced her. It had only been a few days since their argument, but it felt like ages since they had taken a good look at each other. He moved the hand on top of hers to run up her arm. His fingertips brushed delicately against her skin.

He stopped his hand where her neck met her chin and cupped her face, letting his thumb hover over her bottom lip. Abby watched as his eyes narrowed in on the spot where her lip had been lightly bruised days ago. No wound could be seen now.

She felt the pad of his thumb on her lip, and without thinking closed her eyes and kissed it softly. When she opened her eyes, Marcus looked pained, and maybe Abby shouldn’t have reached out to touch his chest, but it’s what she wanted to do. It’s what she wanted him to feel.

Abby laid her hand over the place where his heart would be, and he moved closer, letting the hand that cupped her cheek fall to her clavicle. He traced the bones so tentatively that Abby felt a shiver run through her entire body. Their legs intertwined and they relished in the warmth. Abby’s hand slipped under Marcus’s shirt, feeling the planes of his chest, and he lifted himself up onto his forearm, balancing his weight above her. His hand drifted down to her waist, holding her, before leaning down to capture her lips into a kiss. Abby gripped the back of his head, her fingers gliding through the strands of his hair. Marcus kissed her hard, like he’d never get the chance again. Their lips pulled and pushed against the other while their bodies begged to break the barriers of their clothing. Just as Abby reached for the bottom of her shirt, Marcus pulled away like he’d been stung. She watched him pull his lip between his teeth, as if savoring the last taste of her, before he let his forehead fall to her chin unable to look her in the eye.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, shaking his head, “I can’t.” He moved off Abby swiftly, sitting beside her as she laid momentarily frozen.

Her shirt was still lifted to showcase the bottom half of her torso, without moving or looking at him she said, “It’s okay,” and she meant it. As soon as she felt like she gained movement back in her body, she pushed herself up against the headboard, “We should probably start packing.”

Marcus rubbed his face with both hands, “Yeah,” he cleared his throat and swallowed the large lump inside it, “Do you know where my duffel bag is?”

Abby swallowed the same lump in her throat, “It should be in the closet.”

“Okay,” Marcus nodded once and pushed himself off the bed.

* * *

Hours later, Abby tapped the key card against the sensor of their hotel doorknob. They heard the mechanics of the automated lock, the small red light turned green, and Abby turned the handle down to push the heavy door open. She had prepared herself for the “over the top” antics she secretly loved, such as rose petals spread all over the bed. However when she walked down the long hallway, passed the bathroom and closet, she was met with a tidy and spotless bed. Marcus was either the smartest man on the planet or the dumbest. Abby hadn’t decided yet.

She heard the door close gently and Marcus shuffled with his belongings a few feet behind her. She decided against bringing up the lack of flowers and placed her small carry-on in a corner by the loveseat. Abby dipped her hand into a bowl of individually wrapped chocolates, glad that her husband wasn’t idiotic enough to ask the hotel staff to leave them out. Carelessly, she tossed the plastic wrapper on a nearby desk and popped the treat in her mouth. With the taste of dark cocoa on her tongue, a stream of memories from years before began to unravel inside her mind. Usually, they didn’t make it ten seconds in the room without falling onto the bed and staying there for hours. This time, saying it was different was stating the obvious.

Abby continued to distract herself by walking over to the large window and pulled the curtains back to reveal their spectacular view. They were up so high that morning clouds would move by the window, as if they were on an airplane. Marcus was _not_ a fan of _that_ , so he usually waited until noon to approach the large pane glass. However, the fog had cleared enough for Abby to see the bay, the rolling hills, and rooftops of buildings.

“This almost beats the view from your house back in Arkadia,” Abby murmured, crossing her arms to try and take in every person, plant, and particle she could from their vantage point.

“Oh, it one hundred percent beats the view. I just think you have a soft spot for that house,” Marcus mused while sitting on the edge of the bed.

Abby turned to find him texting on his phone, “Would that be so terrible?”

“Considering the buyer who just bought it, loves it, and has a two-year-old? Meaning the probability of us getting it back is close to zero? Yeah, it might be a terrible thing to love something so much knowing you’ll never get it back.”

“Well, don’t spare me your honesty honey,” Abby mumbled, facing back towards the view, “and how do you know they have a child?”

“I keep track of everybody I’ve made an investment or deal with Abby,” Marcus answered her like she had just asked the plainest question, “you know that.”

Abby shrugged, agreeing.

A few seconds passed before Marcus spoke up softly, “I know you love that house because it’s a totem in our love. But we could live anywhere and it wouldn’t matter ... _wherever you are, is my home._ ”

Abby’s nails dug into the skin of her arms, leaving small crescent moons.

“Do you know who said that?”

Abby turned to him, slightly annoyed, and raised her eyebrow. _Who?_

“You did,” Marcus smiled to himself, “the night we got engaged. I asked if you were okay leaving your house in TonDC.”

Abby let the memory come back to her and rolled her eyes with a grin, “I also called you an idiot so there’s that.”

Marcus made his way over to her, “Speaking of houses, Chloe just texted me.”

“Chloe, our realtor?”

“Yup.”.

“Why?” Abby practically scoffed, “Does she have a spreadsheet that alerts her when our last child leaves? Officially making us empty nesters with a three-bedroom house?”

“Probably,” Marcus reached up to rub her shoulders, “but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Abby playfully shoved his stomach.

“ _I’m kidding_ ,” he chuckled, “she said there’s a house over in Pacific Heights having an estate sale.”

Abby let some tension in her shoulders go and her eyes narrowed in on him, “And you think we can afford something from a house that costs upwards of 20 million?”

“28 million, _technically_. And maybe they have a record player or a vintage lamp?”

“That will be haunted.”

“C’mon,” he leaned down to be eye level with her, “you know you want to see inside that house. You love open house hopping! It’s a mansion, there must be drama that goes back hundreds of years.”

“Or a lonely coked-out c-suite tech bachelor.”

“Is that a dig?”

Abby’s eyes went wide, “Oh, baby,” she held his face in her palms, holding back the deepest laugh, “no, of course not. That’s _horrible_ , why would you even-“

Then Marcus kissed her mid-sentence. Abby was taken aback but leaned into him regardless, their lips brushing for a few seconds. She thought, _was this okay for them, right now?_

Then Marcus pulled away slowly, “I know it wasn’t a dig.” Abby’s demeanor softened as he rubbed up and down her arms, his eyes flickered to the window and then back to her. “And I never did hard narcotics so, let’s go,” he turned on his heel and waved one hand behind him, “the mist is back and it’s making me nauseous.”

Abby grabbed her purse, not forgetting to slide the key card inside the zipper, and followed Marcus. With one look back at the hotel room, she saw a bucket of champagne she had overlooked the first time she had walked in. She noted _two_ bottles. A small snort escaped her. Even when things were _weird_ between them, he knew how to read the room.

* * *

When the Uber dropped them off in front of the house, Abby and Marcus stood outside its metal fence in awe. It had large wooden doors, was three floors, and had beautiful windows with crown molding on the outside. A broad-shouldered man in a sharp suit stood at the entrance, eyeing the couple who couldn’t control their shocked expressions.

With a deep voice, the man opened the gate and said, “Doors close at three, no photos allowed, larger purchases, such as furniture, can be picked up throughout the week by appointment.”

Marcus nodded quickly, a tad intimidated by the man with a headset and sunglasses that made him out to be from The Matrix.

Abby on the other hand, was not intimidated at all, “Is there a pamphlet with more information on the house? Like the year it was built, previous owner?”

“Ma’am that is proprietary information.”

Abby pursed her lips, deciding she wouldn’t push it further, and even if she wanted to she wouldn’t have gotten the chance because Marcus grabbed her hand and pulled her away.

“Proprietary information? For a house? Yeah, we’re talking about a corporate whistleblower here,” Abby thought out loud.

Marcus walked them up the steps to the small porch, “You have been listening to way too many murder podcasts.”

Marcus pushed open the front door, to reveal a bright open-spaced foyer leading up to the grand staircase. There were several other people roaming around, inquiring about rugs, and tables, and paintings. To their right was the dining room and to their left a sitting room. Everything smelled fresh and clean. The natural light illuminated the cream-colored walls in a way that made the house feel calm.

“This is insane,” Abby murmured, her fingers curling tighter around Marcus’. He looked down at their interlocked hands, then at her curious brown eyes taking in every particle of the house. He followed her as she led them through the halls, her free hand floated over the wood of tables and textures of wallpaper. He observed her walking through each room with a sense of wonder. Marcus knew even if Abby appreciated the _grandness_ of the house, she could never happily live in it.

On the top floor, they stood at a large curved window overlooking the small backyard.

“I kind of hate it,” Abby whispered.

The right side of Marcus’ mouth turned up, but he didn’t look at her.

“I know it’s beautiful,” she continued, “and I’m sure going to a party here would be … _something_. But it’s far too big and you’d never run into your kids, hell, maybe that’s the point. But I couldn’t do it.”

“That’s why the owner is selling it,” Marcus told her gently, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Their focus never left the autumn trees swaying with the wind, their red and orange leaves falling to the ground glacially. “ _She_ much prefers the rolling hills of greenery you can see from their new house. Her two-year-old loves the pool and the sunflowers that grow around the guest house out front.”

Abby turned to him with wet eyes, trying to make sense of the story he was painting with words.

“You see, she got a job offer in Polis and wanted a new start. She didn’t want anything from _this_ house and wanted her new one to be far from work so that she could separate her professional and personal life. She could afford _much_ pricier homes. But when she heard a man, who once wanted the things she does now, was selling his house for the second time … she paid in _full_ in a matter of _hours_.”

“It seems you gave her hope,” Abby lifted her chin, her eyes gleaming.

Marcus turned to look down at his wife, “That’s actually her daughter’s name. So, technically, she gave it to herself.”

“You and technicalities,” Abby said matter of factly. As she held his gaze Abby continued, “Also, that’s how you found out about this estate sale. You liar,” she clicked her tongue against the top of her mouth and shook her head side to side. “You sold the Arkadia home to a,” Abby looked around wildly, “billionaire? The same one who once owned _this?!_ I’m … honestly,” she rolled her neck releasing tension, “I’m not _that_ surprised.”

“Marcus reached out to tuck a strand of Abby’s hair behind her ear, calming her, “If I would’ve known you hated being in our house, here, so much after Nena left, I wouldn’t have sold the Arkadia home again.”

Abby sighed, looking down at her shoes, “I don’t hate our home here Marcus. I could never hate the walls that Nena drew on, or the window Octavia broke by accident, or the paint Clarke chose for the guest bedroom, or the truly horrible housewarming gift Bellamy bought.”

Marcus laughed at her last point.

“I do love the house you owned in Arkadia. I love the house I owned in TonDC. Hell, I love my first apartment. The only home I didn’t particularly love was the one I grew up in, and even then I still remember the lizards that would stick to the kitchen window at night and the PVC floor paper that would tear under the dining table. I just feel like with every big change … I moved out of the space where all the old was.”

Marcus pursed his lips, a question on the tip of his tongue, and even after years of marriage he was afraid to ask it.

“I didn’t sell the house after Jake because it felt wrong. Our whole world turned upside down, I wasn’t about to make things more unstable.”

And his wife had answered his question without him having to ask.

“But Clarke can tell you, I slept anywhere but our bedroom for _a year_. Then, I donated every curtain, bedsheet, and piece of furniture that reminded me of him. The only thing I didn’t give up was his college sweatshirt, and I still own that.”

“Is that what you want to do? Will that help? Remodeling the house?”

Abby smiled almost devastatingly, “No. I mean … our kids are still here.”

“Well then what can I do to make sure …”

“Make sure what?”

“To make sure what happened between us … doesn’t happen again,” Marcus murmured lowly, unable to keep eye contact.

Abby’s eyebrows furrowed, “I just need time, Marcus.”

“Well then for whatever time you need,” he shuffled his feet, “I don’t think we should have sex.”

Abby let out a huff of breath and turned back to face the window, “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Yes, you did,” Marcus corrected her slyly.

Abby ran both hands through her hair and bit her lip, unable to stand so close to Marcus while feeling every nerve in her body. People started to shuffle into the entertainment room they had been alone in for a while now. She made eye contact with a woman for a second longer than Abby would have liked. She was a fan of others being able to sense tense moments and politely stepping in. But she wasn’t about to have a stranger ask her if she was okay in front of a growing group of people.

“I’ve seen enough,” Abby told Marcus, “I’ll wait for you out front by Neo.”

And if Marcus weren’t so god damn worried, her joke would have had him howling. He watched Abby calmly leave the room and waited fifteen long seconds before pursuing her. On the final flight of stairs, he questioned whether or not Abby was worth pursuing. She continuously kept telling him all she needed was space and time. But hadn’t he given her that for the past week? Was he overstepping? Marcus had no clue.

Abby wasn’t outside the house when he closed the gate behind him.

“She walked that way,” the man in the suit pointed west down the sidewalk.

“Thank you,” Marcus lifted his hand in a polite gesture before increasing his pace down the path Abby would be on.

He found her at the top of the Lyon Street Steps, clutching onto the middle metal railing. Even from afar, he could see her battling with her own mind. A cool breeze had picked up and lifted the tendrils around her face. Her lips slightly trembled in the wind and her gaze shifted to the beauty before her. Marcus approached her as silent as he could, not wanting to disturb the thoughts he knew she was processing alongside the sight of the blue ocean and mountains in the distance.

“I’m not a surgeon anymore,” Abby spoke up, wiping a tear before it could fall, “I’m not even a practicing doctor. I’m a mom, but not really. Our children are gone, living their own lives, and maybe I’ll get a call about what fucking laundry detergent I use, but I’ll never be the same kind of mom again. And having the house to ourselves should make me happy, and should make me want to fuck in every room. But all I can think about is the fact that it doesn’t matter. Any of it!” Abby hid her face beneath her palms, a small frustrated groan erupting from her throat.

“Whether I’m Chief of Surgery or Dr. Kane, whether I’m Mamas or Mom, whether I’m Abby or your wife. None of it matters because it will all change anyway,” she waved her arms wildly in front of her.

”I won’t be able to save Reese. I won’t be able to keep all my children under the same roof until I die. I won’t be able to selfishly enjoy life with you without wishing things were like how they used to be. Like when we met in a museum, or when you kissed me under the bridge, or visited me at the hospital, or married me in a garden, or carried me up the stairs of our new house pregnant, or any of the things that I feel like I can never make up or get back.”

Abby let out a long exhale, and her inhale sounded like hiccups, her breathing trying to even out. She could _feel_ her fingers shaking, and her knee bobbing up and down anxiously. It was nice to finally get most of her thoughts out. But Abby didn’t feel any better, because she still didn’t have any answers for herself.

“Baby,” Marcus whispered, taking a step closer to her but not reaching out to hold her just yet, “of course you will never be the same mom again. That’s how this works … how life works. It doesn’t make you less than. I mean shit I love small Octavia, but my favorite memory with her is drinking wine at that horse ranch for her birthday. It was a sucky day _for us as parents_ , but seeing Verena order _actual coffee_ and then meet her orientation friends made me happy. And, Clarke, I mean for God’s sake _she’s in love!_ Wasn’t dinner with her and Lexa in New York amazing? Many cocktails in and I don’t think we’ve ever laughed so much. And Bell, shit Bell is more adult than both of us most times. He’s stopped many a mid-life crisis purchases. Unfortunately, not the barbecue pit in our dying back yard.”

Abby turned to look at Marcus then, leaning back against the railing, and pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to stop it from trembling.

“As for your position, you _love_ your job, and you love that campus. I can barely get you to come home during the spring. But if you ever, _ever_ , want to open up a practice, all you have to do is let me know. I will be by your side, helping you one hundred percent of the way. As for the sex, listen,” Marcus gently placed a hand on her hip, “I’m not questioning anything there. The woman standing in front of me has surprised me in more ways than once, in more places than once. And there are times when we were completely on schedule, no spontaneity. And there were times where we were just way too busy. Whatever the case, love of my life, it _does_ matter whether you feel like you’re ‘Abby’ or not. I just hope … you don’t put yourself in boxes. We’re fluid creatures, not flexible ones. Flexibility has a breaking point.”

Abby started crying then, her face falling into her hands, and Marcus waited no longer to wrap his arms around her. He steadily combed the hair that fell down her back, murmuring comforting words, and kissed the top of her head repeatedly; until she let out all she had been keeping in.

“I’m so sorry,” she said into his chest, clutching the bottom of his pullover with her fingers, “if I could undo what I did, how I felt-“

“No,” Marcus answered her strongly as he shook his head side to side, “your feelings aren’t something to apologize for. I just hope … in the future … you know that you can share everything with me. Even the ugly-“

“I did know that,” Abby softly cut him off, “But, your mom told me,” she pulled back enough to lift her hands further up his chest, balancing herself, “that I am the strong one. And I’ve said it before, I always have been. But sometimes … I don’t want to be. I shouldn’t have to be.”

“Abby,” Marcus raised her chin, their eyes connecting, a blur taking over their surroundings, “then you have to trust me to carry you.”

Abby looked at him like something had just been unlocked or set free in herself. With a runny nose, she nodded, holding him tighter against her small frame. Marcus dove his face into the crook of her neck, returning the embrace with just as much force.

After some time, they pulled apart enough to walk down the flight of steps to the balcony, lending an even greater picturesque view.

“Sometimes, I forget how lucky we are,” Abby leaned over the thick cement railing, “this is like a computer simulation.”

“Ooo,” Marcus snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her flush back against him, “talk tech to me baby,” and they chuckled with the person running up the steps in workout gear, who happened to overhear them at the precise comedic time.

“I have an idea,” Abby twisted to face him. Just as she was about to continue, a loud growl rumbled in her stomach.

“Food?” Marcus tilted his head.

“Actually, no. But yeah, let’s grab something to eat, and then we can get to my idea.”

“Alright,” Marcus nodded in affirmation. He then bent down to pick up Abby, she squealed in surprise as his arms snaked under her legs and she hooked her arms around his neck. With a large exhale Marcus turned them to face back up the flights of stairs.

“You are going to blow your back out,” Abby tried to squirm out of his arms.

“I know,” he grunted, “I’m just holding you for ten more seconds, and then I’ll put you down. The point is … I can carry you.”

Abby melted at his double entendre, “I love you,” she told him before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Marcus didn’t answer immediately, “And ten! Whew,” he set her down gently, then stretched out his back, bending at his hips and swaying side to side. When he stood up straight, he reached out his hand, “I love you too,” Abby held it, “now let’s find some food.”

* * *

“Okay,” Marcus sipped from his drink, “what was your idea?”

Abby finished chewing before answering, “It’s a surprise.”

“Thirty minutes ago it wasn’t?”

Abby rose her eyebrow, “Well I’ve changed my mind.”

“Can I guess?” Marcus crossed one leg over the other, sitting back to pop a chip in his mouth.

Abby rolled her eyes, “Fine. But you only get three questions and one guess.”

She noticed the twinkle in his eye at their game now. Happily, Abby took another bite from her late lunch and waited for the first question.

“How far is it from here?”

“No,” Abby waved her fork in front of her face, “only yes or no questions.”

“Those weren’t the rules,” Marcus wagged his finger.

“Fine,” Abby squinted her eyes at him, “walking about 12 minutes.”

At her answer Marcus looked off to the side, thinking. It was hard for him to go about the process of elimination with her eyes staring so blatantly at him. Abby stabbed a cherry tomato with her fork before tossing it in her mouth.

“Do we have to pay to get in?”

“I don’t think so,” Abby shrugged.

“Well that’s not an answer,” Marcus looked wildly at her, “Google it!”

“No,” Abby snickered, covering her mouth while she talked, “answers rely completely on my own knowledge.”

Marcus scoffed, “Fine.”

Abby swallowed and lifted her index finger, “You have one last question.”

Marcus’s right hand tugged gently at the hair of chin as he thought critically. Then he met Abby’s eyes, “Have we been there before?”

“Not alone.”

“Okay,” Marcus wiped his hand on the towel napkin, “it’s somewhere in Golden Gate Park.”

Abby kept a straight face, “What? Are you asking or stating?”

“I’m thinking out loud,” Marcus mumbled, “somewhere you didn’t know if we’d have to pay or not ... okay, it’s the De Young Museum.”

The left side of Abby’s mouth cracked into a lopsided grin.

“You wanted to take us to relive museum memories, that’s sweet babe,” Marcus reached over to grace the top of her hand.

“Nope, your guess is wrong,” then she lifted her hand from underneath his to grab the attention of a server. Nicely she said, “we’ll have the check, please.” Then Abby looked back at Marcus whose expression was defeated albeit annoyed, “That was a good try though — very rom-com-esque.”

* * *

“Well it’s definitely been a while,” Marcus said when Abby led them down the path towards the conservatory of flowers. They’d already been walking inside Golden Gate Park for five minutes. Upon their first step onto the paved roads, Marcus stated a fact he learned many years ago and repeated like he just learned it yesterday, “Did you know that Golden Gate Park is larger than Central Park?”

“Yes,” Abby squeezed his hand, leading the way into the vast greenery, “about 20% bigger, I’ve been told.”

They came face to face with the large white metal and glass building. People were roaming around the front lawns, taking pictures, or finding a spot to lay out a blanket.

“So, why here?” Marcus asked as they made their way up the steps and through the entrance.

“Other than it’s beauty?” Abby turned her head to him with a playful look. They walked around the large lily pad pond, “When we moved here, I was only getting more pregnant, so that made walking less enjoyable. Then we had Nena and our jobs, and you know we needed to sleep. So, I don’t think we ever got to explore as much as we would have thought.”

Marcus listened, letting Abby finish, “And now … I suppose we have the time.”

He pulled her into a corner, away from the eye line and path of others, between a growing wall of plants and the crystal walls. Abby felt her back press against the cool glass, as Marcus loomed over her, “So, what part of your life are we starting? First, childhood. Second, up until high school graduation. Third, college, including your little rendezvous with your professor-”

“You are never going to let that go are you?” Abby chuckled.

“No, never,” he laughed, his hand sliding into one of the back pockets of her jeans, tugging her closer to him, “Fourth …?”

“Med school, Jake, Clarke’s childhood. Fifth, Meeting you,” Abby raises herself up on her tiptoes to kiss him lightly, then rocked back on her heels, “creating _our_ family. So I guess we’re at part six.”

“God, you are so old,” Marcus teased in an even tone, bending his neck so their noses could brush.

When their eyes met, only centimeters apart, Abby whispered, “But I’m alive. _I’m here_.”

They spent the next half an hour roaming the conservatory and its grounds. Marcus reached to pick a flower from one of the front gardens for Abby and she swatted his hand before he could get in trouble.

“Wait,” Marcus spun Abby around before they left, “let’s take a picture,” Marcus grabbed his phone.

“Really?” Abby eyed him suspiciously.

“Oh stop, you act like I’ve never done this.”

“You’re always more stealthy about it.”

“Well my stealth and humility leave me with age,” he chuckled, angling the phone camera in front of both their faces.

“Remember when you didn’t have social media,” Abby commented, leaning into his side.

“Yeah, and then I married you,” he kissed her forehead, “now-“

“Do y’all want a photo?” A woman with a large grin asked. She had on tennis shoes, a backpack, and a camera hanging from her neck.

“No, it’s okay, we live-“

“Yes, thank you,” Marcus cut Abby off and handed his phone to the cheery lady.

* * *

Some fifteen minutes later, after seeing his father's post on Instagram and sending it to his siblings, Bellamy arranged a FaceTime.

“They’re having a mid-life crisis,” Bellamy sighed.

“No they’re not,” Clarke rolled her eyes.

“They were at Golden Gate Park. The only people who go there are people with kids, college kids for music festivals, and tourists.”

“I feel like that’s not true,” Octavia said skeptically “Also, why isn’t V on this call?”

“Because _who_ do you think they’re having a crisis about?” Bellamy said frustrated.

“They’re just having fun!” Clarke exclaimed, “I’m about to go under so wrap it up Bell.”

“Who are you right now?” Octavia laughed, “No one actually talks like that. Just say you’re catching the train or som-“

“I’ve heard many people say-“ Clarke tried to rebuttal but Bellamy talked over both of them.

“Want to bet a hundred bucks I’m right?”

“No!”

“Shut up, Bell!”

“Dad just texted me,” Bellamy said triumphantly, “he said that we need to talk and he’ll call me tomorrow.”

Silence came from the other end of Bellamy’s line.

“Okay, congratulations? He probably wants to buy a car you freak,” Octavia scoffed.

“I’m going now,” Clarke piped up, “bye!”

* * *

“Clarke commented heart eyes, red heart, heart eyes. Octavia on the other hand, commented a vomiting face three times.”

Abby let a hearty laugh rise up from her chest and shake her shoulders, “Of course she did.”

In the distance, they heard small children playing. They didn’t exactly know what direction they were walking when they exited the path from the conservatory. A few turns and winding roads later, they recognized their surroundings when the noises of children got louder. It wasn’t terrible because there wasn’t a lot of crying or yelling … not yet at least. But the last time they’d been here was with their youngest daughter.

“Well, I guess the universe said fuck off,” Abby commented under her breath, immediately halting them from walking down the steps where the playground and other children’s amenities were. In fact, it was one of the first children’s playgrounds ever built in the country. Marcus remembered reading that from a bronze plaque somewhere nearby. He had recited it to Verena as though she would have cared. Instead, she pointed at the hut nearby that sold many things, among them, ice cream and corn dogs. Both of which Verena threw up after playing.

“The carousel,” Marcus said aloud, spotting the glass casing in the distance. He started pulling them down the stone steps. Abby begrudgingly followed.

They saw the same hut that still sold street fair food, the large hill that was adjacent to the playground with kids riding their bikes down the paths, and the vintage carousel. The creepy vintage carousel. If someone who owned haunted puppets had the time to design a carousel, it would be this one. At least that’s what Abby thought.

Now, it wasn’t that the carousel was completely creepy. It was just _old_. So the design of the creatures was original and a little faded. Verena was not a fan of any of the options except the giraffe.

Marcus turned to Abby when they could hear the music of the carousel and the structure begin to spin. His question was practically dripping from his lips.

“It’s not for adults, Marcus,” Abby tried to get out of the situation, “and we don’t have a child as an excuse to get on.”

He lifted a hand to his hip and shifted his weight, not buying her bullshit. “They sell adult tickets, Abby. They don’t care. C’mon, it’ll be the last thing before we head back to the hotel.”

Abby gave in when he looked like he was about to kneel and plead, “Fine, but only if the giraffe is available.”

And as silly as she felt saddling a ceramic giraffe like a horse, and watching Marcus saddle a dragon next to her, every ounce of self-awareness she had evaporated when the carousel started spinning. They looked at each other with grins that made their cheeks hurt. Marcus reached out his hand and Abby held it for as long as she could before their creatures of choice made it difficult to balance.

Since Abby had the animal on the outer edge of the carousel, she took a moment to look out the glass. The ride moved fast enough that she couldn’t concentrate on one thing too hard, but slow enough that she didn’t get nauseous. She caught a glimpse of the swings by the playground, and for a second she thought she could see herself, years ago pushing a kid with glittered cat ears, rainbow leggings, and bunny she refused to leave behind. And at that moment, Abby realized she gave Verena and all her children the best she could. She hadn’t let them live in a home where they felt like a stranger. And that was more than enough.

Abby hadn’t realized how much she had internalized her problematic childhood, until childhood was the very thing she no longer needed to provide. Or _wanted_ to provide. A loving childhood. Maybe not completely free of expectations. But the expectations were to be _kind_ and _hopeful_ in a world that often tested that strength.

Abby hadn’t noticed the ride stopped until Marcus softly laid a hand on her thigh.

“Need help getting off?” he asked, and then at his own words, Marcus turned red and bent his head in embarrassment.

Abby smiled, silent laughter filling her, “We are surrounded by children, my _God_.”

“I didn’t mean it that way!” he shushed her, trying to calm his chuckles. Marcus put one arm around her waist and helped her slide onto the floor.

They made their way out of the space, stopping by the entrance to use one of those automatic hand sanitizing stations. Although fun, children were still little petri dishes most of the time.

The air was crisp when they returned to the main pathway in the park. The fog was back and it made its way through the tops of the tall trees. It was a little unsettling to see the mist move so quickly through the emerald green leaves. Something neither of them truly got used too, it felt otherworldly. As Abby looked down at her feet to ground herself, she realized how sore they were beginning to feel.

“Want to get an Uber?” Abby asked.

“Oh, I’m already leading us to the pick-up point,” Marcus affirmed with a nod.

“I think we share a brain,” Abby pursed her lips.

“Maybe, but I also know you. And those,” he pointed to her shoes, “are _new_. So, your feet are dying.”

Abby stopped them, pulling on his hand to drag him close enough that she could loop both arms around his neck. “It’s the little things baby,” she smirked before kissing him, “why I love you.”

“Except when I say lewd jokes in inappropriate places,” he smiled, their noses still touching, his arms wound tightly around her.

Abby shook her head, “ _Especially_ when you say lewd jokes in inappropriate places.”

Marcus kissed her again, then his phone buzzed letting him know the Uber was waiting. Abby could not care less. Reluctantly Marcus did, “C’mon I won’t let you and your horny-ness ruin my rating,” he made them jog in the direction of the pick-up point.

“Unbelievable!” Abby exclaimed. They ran grinning wide and completely and utterly in love with each other's company.

* * *

This time when the door to the hotel room shut behind them, Marcus wasted no time gripping his wife against him. He held one leg around his waist, before gently tossing her on the fluffy king bed. Abby watched him pull off her shoes, and crawl to hover over her. She stretched her neck up to kiss him, as he clumsily kicked his own shoes off. As their mouths crashed against the other, Marcus grabbed each decorative pillow and threw it to unknown areas of their hotel room. When one pillow hit a lamp, knocking off the lampshade with a crash, they stopped to giggle wildly. Their lungs filling and collapsing, in sync with each other.

When they calmed down, Marcus traced every feature on her face with the light touch of his index finger.

“You always do that,” Abby whispered.

“Well when we have time,” he replied quietly.

Abby lifted her own hand, starting at the bridge of his nose, running down to his lips, back and forth over the soft sensitive skin, up the side of his cheekbone. She put more pressure when she traced alongside his temple, and Marcus couldn’t help as his eyes shut. Abby took this moment to raise her other hand, and massage his temples with her fingers in small circles. When his face was completely relaxed, Abby moved both her hands behind his head, bringing him down to her. She controlled the kiss, as they began to pull off their clothes.

“It’s freezing,” Marcus murmured with a small chuckle, as she helped him pull his underwear down his feet. Once Abby flung them somewhere by the desk, Marcus moved to pull the blankets. They were tucked firmly into the cracks of the bed. “What the fuck,” he wheezed trying to pull them from their place. Together they pulled until the blanket finally gave, and Abby couldn’t hold back her humor at the entire situation. “No,” he tugged her from her waist, until she was next to him under the blankets, “no more laughing. We are going to do this loudly and like we haven’t aged a day since we met. We’re going to have no kids, loud, newlywed, sex.”

Abby pulled both lips between her teeth, trying to hold back her fit of giggles with each word Marcus spoke.

“I’m being serious,” he told her, even though he was failing at hiding his own stoic expression, “we better get like four phone calls for noise disturbance.”

“Honey,” Abby covered his mouth, “stop talking.”

Then she rolled them over. Marcus’ pupils went wide when he felt her heat on him. Abby left her hands on his chest as she began to leave a trail of warm kisses down each side of his throat.

“I don’t want newlywed sex,” she murmured into his skin. Marcus hummed something vaguely resembling a response so Abby continued, “I want us to just be _here_ ,” she slid her hands up the back of his head and twirled some strands of hair around her fingers and gently tugged, “knowing exactly what the other likes.” When those words left her mouth, Marcus began to massage the inside of her knees, then slowly brushed up and down her thighs in ministrations. Abby took one of his earlobes between her lips, languidly running her tongue over his skin, and began to roll her hips forward and backward. Marcus gripped her hips firmly, letting a groan rise up his throat, as he pressed her down against him further. When Abby leaned back, enough to get a good look at his expression, she noticed the small furrow between his eyebrows.

“You’re still thinking about it,” Abby whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, his head falling back against the headboard and his eyes shut, “I just can’t forget the look on your face.”

Abby pursed her lips, nodding slightly, she reached behind her and kept a hand hovered over him. “Open your eyes.”

Marcus took a large breath before opening his eyes to meet hers. At that exact moment, she took a hold of him, before he could make any noise or expression Abby murmured, “Keep them open.” Her hand moved up and down, “Okay?”

Marcus nodded enough for her to notice, “Okay.”

Abby lifted herself, never breaking eye contact, as she guided him until they felt each other’s warmth. Brown irises on brown irises, it was the polar opposite of anything Marcus felt from their incident almost a week ago. Nothing could ever erase her open expression, now ingrained in his memory, as she moved lovingly above him. He could hear the noises coming from their throats, and the longer they stared at each other, the more he wanted to feel. His hand lifted to the top of her chest, feeling the rumble of her voice. Abby did the same until Marcus took her hand and brought it to his mouth, swirling his tongue over the tip of her thumb. They were getting close, and Abby’s movements became sharp above him. He held her hand against his face, wild eyes on each other until they both let go with a long exhale.

* * *

When they woke up, Marcus was cold. Abby had stolen the entire comforter for herself. But Marcus noticed he had hoarded more than half the bed. Their limbs overlapped each other; her leg on top of his, his wrist laying over her arms. They quite frankly had been knocked out.

He checked the time on his phone, eight at night. As quietly as he could he rolled over on his back, adjusting the pillow behind him, and began scrolling through various apps. His muscles were so relaxed, he had to stretch his toes to help his body wake up and warm up.

Abby shuffled next to him, opening an eye to see him awake. She adjusted the pillow beneath her head and stretched for her phone on the nightstand. Then just as Marcus had, she started scrolling through her own feeds.

They sent each other links silently, every now and then raising their phone up to the others’ face for a photo or video.

“What is it about hotel beds that make it so hard to get up?” Marcus tossed his phone, bending at his waist to try and touch his toes.

Abby smirked, clicking her phone off, and flipping onto her stomach. She pushed the upper half of her body up into a cobra pose, “ _Good_ hotel beds.” With a huff she fell back ungracefully onto the bed, digging her face and body into the fluffy sheets and pillow as much as she could, “All beds really,” she mumbled.

“Should we order food or do you want to go somewhere? I can see if _Leo’s_ still has spots open? It’s like five blocks away.”

“Down one of the steepest streets California has to offer,” Abby commented, “I’m not wearing heels if we walk.”

Marcus couldn’t help his inquisitive expression, “Did you pack heels?”

“I do own them you know.”

“Many pairs, I’m aware,” Marcus waved off her comment as if it was nonsense. Then as if a light bulb had gone off in his head he grinned, “You knew we were going to make up.”

Abby rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her amused look, “What are you talking about?”

Marcus leaned down to kiss her bare shoulder, “You wouldn’t have packed heels if you didn’t think we were going to go out to a nice dinner or bar. If you didn’t, at least subconsciously, think that while we were here we would fix things.”

“Yeah, that or I just enjoy wearing them,” Abby teased.

“Ha!” Marcus exclaimed, his body shaking with laughter, “that’s funny.” He pushed himself off the bed, “I’ll call _Leo’s_ , let’s start getting dressed. We can Uber the five blocks,” Marcus paused goading her a little, “dear.”

“Oh honey please,” Abby responded sarcastically, “don’t spoil me too much.”

* * *

Half an hour later, they were dressed to the nines, heading out to dinner. They spent most of the night at the oyster bar, returning more intoxicated than anticipated. Which led to spending most of the next day in the hotel room. Sharing the two bottles of champagne didn’t exactly aid their headaches, however, they surely numbed them for a while.

Needless to say, when they returned home on Sunday, Abby expected a lot of things. Like, the comfort of their belongings around her. The comfort of her own bed and bathroom. Even if the hotel did have lavish amenities, it still wasn’t home.

What Abby was not expecting, was to push open the front door and hear the distinct sound of siblings conversing loudly. Abby froze at the foyer, Marcus grabbed the luggage from her hand, and set it with his bag on the small bench near their coats. With his wife still in shock, he gave the top of her head a peck, before placing both hands on her shoulders and gently nudging her forward.

They heard Octavia first, “No, you swipe right idiot.”

Then Clarke’s laugh.

Then Bellamy sighed, “What happens if I accidentally swipe right though? Can I undo it?”

Abby turned the corner into their kitchen to the sight of Clarke, Octavia, and Bellamy around the island. There were two boxes of pizza opened, soft drinks, cheese bread and garlic knots spread throughout the countertop. They passed around a phone until Bellamy stuffed it into his pocket giving up on whatever they were talking about.

Clarke was the first to notice her mother enter the room, “Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence.” Her tone was sassy, but she wasted no time striding across the room to embrace her mom.

“Yeah, we’ve been waiting forever,” Octavia jumped off a barstool, and joined Clarke and Abby’s hug exclaiming, “Mom sandwich, come on Bell!”

Bellamy rolled his eyes but practically leaped into the hug, squeezing everyone tightly with his arms until they all got mad at him because they couldn’t breathe.

“Sorry, we checked out later than expected,” Marcus answered, a blush on his cheeks.

“Ew.”

“Gross.”

“Why do you say these things?”

All three kids quickly jumped back from Abby as if she had burned them.

“Oh, please,” Abby reached out for them, “We’re all adults!” Her daughters walked back to reluctantly lean on her shoulders. Their embarrassed and disgusted faces not entirely disappearing.

Marcus crossed his arms and looked accusingly at Octavia, “Whose idea was it to order the entire pizzeria?”

“You don’t have to eat any,” Octavia shrugged.

“My card is the one on file. I’m eating that food.”

“Then don’t judge.”

“Use your card next time then.”

“That would ruin the best part of coming home.”

“Get over here,” Marcus laughed, pulling Octavia into his arms.

After everyone comfortably reunited, Abby asked the question no one had answered yet.

“How and why are all of you here?”

Clarke lifted herself to sit on a kitchen counter, reaching for a slice of pizza, “Because you two went to Golden Gate Park like people in crisis.”

Octavia followed Clarke’s lead, sitting back in her seat, and pouring some soda into a cup, “Yeah, the only people who go to that park are parents with small children, tourists, and drifters.”

“Dad called us,” Bellamy told the truth, leaning against the fridge. “But before that. _They_ ,” he pointed at both Clarke and Octavia, “didn’t believe me when I said you weren’t feeling like yourselves because V left for college and now the house is empty.”

Octavia and Clarke turned to Bellamy with a glare. Marcus and Abby looked slightly offended, their mouths agape.

“Thanks for that honesty Bell,” Clarke said with a monotone voice.

“Do you hear yourself?” Octavia scolded.

“I was the one who noticed first!” he exasperated.

Marcus stepped in then, “Alright, alright!” He turned to Abby, “I called them because you weren’t the only one who missed our kids.”

“He didn’t call V though,” Octavia added, “because if she knew how sad you both were, she would transfer to a college here, and we don’t want to wrongfully influence her life, right?”

“I feel like this is a trap,” Abby eyed all of them suspiciously.

“It’s not,” Clarke chuckled, “really. We missed you too.”

“And,” Octavia elongated the word.

“And?” Abby asked.

“And we’re taking you on a road trip,” Clarke smirked mischievously, “just you, me, and O. I’m driving of course. I don’t trust either of you.”

“I-” Abby walked over to her daughter, “honey I would love too, but my work-”

“I called your VP and Assistant Director,” Marcus spoke up, “you are set to miss work for the week.”

“So don’t unpack everything,” Octavia grinned, “our Jeep awaits!”

“I thought we were renting a Land Rover?” Clarke questioned.

“No, Dad and I decided on a Subaru, it’s the safest,” Bellamy waved his hands in front of him.

As the three of them argued once again on what car would be rented to drive up the coast, Abby looked back at Marcus. With her hand over her heart, she mouthed, “Thank you.”

“I love you,” he mouthed back earnestly.

* * *

Songs for this chapter: [Your Best American Girl by Mitski](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjGB9hc5huk), [Skate by Tycho and Saint Sinner](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qMbkKoZCvEI), [Grow by MUNA](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZGldMzrZQ1k), [Heroes by Vera Blue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SPoyhnYt6Wg), [Back In My Body by Maggie Rogers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i0wS25XsrH0), [When The Night Is Over by Lord Huron](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=juKGjUGPyHs), [Te Guardo by Silvana Estrada](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C8JJxmVQ9KI), [6's to 9's by Big Wild and Rationale](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qUzWOuXUpyk), [Hallelujah, Love is Real! by David Ramirez](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yVH6vrRjLJ0).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. A sincere thank you for all the views, kudos, and comments!


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